


Surfacing

by LollirotXoX



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:56:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LollirotXoX/pseuds/LollirotXoX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian is determined to do something out of the ordinary for Mickey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Package For Ian Gallagher

**Author's Note:**

> I have had so much Gallavich feels and ideas swirling around in my head, I decided to just dive in head first! So here's my first real attempt at these wonderful boys of ours. Set closely after 3x05, before our happy boys became not so happy. Special thanks to the lovely queen of all things Gallavich, TheMintSauce, for cleaning the first chapter up as much as possible and writing all her awesomeness! I don't know how she does it! Go check all of her stuff out, it's amazing! Hope you enjoy, feedback is always appreciated! =]
> 
> Also, I own nothing.

                Ian Gallagher was on a fucking mission.

                Mickey’s nineteenth birthday was fast approaching and he knew exactly what he was going to do. In the past, birthdays had come and gone without any fuss between them. Ian’s was in the summer, and so Mickey had been in Juvie for both that had passed since he and Mickey had hooked up for the first time. Mickey’s was October 30th, the irony of which did not escape Ian.

                Of _course_ Mickey Milkovich had been born on “The Devil’s Night.”

                The first one had been too early to really push to do anything about, and the second he’d just blown Ian off when he’d suggested they do something a little out of the ordinary for the occasion. So, Ian had simply gotten him a bottle of his favorite rum and some really good weed and they’d gotten high and drunk in the dugout and fucked all night long. Not a bad way to spend a birthday, but Ian still itched to do something special for him.

                If only because no one ever had.

                Mickey didn’t have to tell him that (not that the stubborn ass ever would), he just knew. And despite how Mickey seemed determined to keep the whole thing as a non-issue, Ian was also determined to do something this time.

                How could he not be?

                And how could he not want to celebrate the day his favorite person was brought into this world?

                Then the only problem had been deciding what to do. Nothing romantic like dinner and a movie, he could just imagine the scoff. “ _Could you possibly think of anything more fucking faggy, Gallagher?”_ Things had gotten much better between them as of recently, but he was under no delusions that their life would even be cookie cutter like most idealistic romances were. He wouldn’t have it any other way though, because it wouldn’t be Mickey if it was that way. A vacation together was out of the question, there was too much going on what with Fiona just winning custody of them and beside herself with having all her monkeys in the house again. Not to mention the questions that would raise from the few people that actually paid attention to their presence.

                So, what was left?

                The idea came to him innocently enough one day, Mickey feeding him the information he needed without even realizing he was doing so. They were sitting under the El, sharing a joint and knocking back a few beers and talking about random shit. Music had gotten brought up at some point, and they’d been going back and forth with bands for the last half hour or so.

                “Oh, I saw them a year or two ago actually! Lip surprised me with tickets for my birthday; he worked his ass off tutoring every day for three weeks to afford it.” Ian said, smiling fondly at the memory when Green Day got brought up. Suddenly, the redhead stopped and stared at Mickey like he was seeing him for the first time.

                Cocking an eyebrow in the air in question at his intense gaze, Mickey downed a beer in a few gulps before throwing it aimlessly into the corner. “What the fuck you looking at?”

                “I never realized before…But has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like Billie Joe Armstrong?” With the pale skin, spiked dark hair, the light, intense eyes and the shorter, stockier build. Their whole structure was similar.

                If he’d been sober maybe there would have been a malicious comeback to that spoken thought, just because; but given that he wasn’t, the Milkovich boy just returned his stare blankly before his face contorted into a picture of insane laughter like that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Beer almost flew out his nostrils and he had to double over on himself from his perch on the sidewalk. “That’s fucking hilarious, Firecrotch.”

                He chuckled lightly once he caught his breath, thinking to himself that if anyone else ever thought that, they’d never had the balls to say so. Not that he thought the guy was unattractive so it wasn’t an insult or anything, it was just funny. He, Mickey fucking Milkovich, thug of Chicago South Side, being compared to basically the king of (now) pop punk.

                Ian shook his head, a smile quirking up the corner of his lips before continuing what he’d been saying before, telling Mickey all about the concert.

                Mickey seemed quiet and contemplative, listening intently but trying to hide the fact that he was doing so. Even if he didn’t outwardly show it, he always listened to what Ian said. However, Ian could tell the difference between when he was mindfully listening and actively paying attention and participating. After a moment, it was clear why.

                “I’ve never been to a concert.” Mickey shared, his voice thoughtful and even maybe a bit wistful as he considered the bubbles in his beer.

                “Really?” Ian asked. A metal show seemed like it would be the perfect place for Mickey. He could punch as many people as he wanted, and no one would say shit.

                “Yeah, fucking really.” The dark haired boy snapped, suddenly irritated as if he didn’t like the fact that it bothered him. Such a trivial thing to be bothered by. So he’d never been to a concert, so fucking what? He wasn’t crying about it.

                And that was all Ian needed to know.

                So now, here he was. Sitting on Mickey’s bed and waiting patiently for the sound of the water to start. Because, holy shit, Mickey was taking a shower even though he’d just taken one maybe two days ago.

                If asked, he would blame it on the fact that he and Ian had just fucked three times in the last two hours, because like hell were they not going to take advantage of the empty Milkovich house. No one but Mandy had been around there in about two weeks, as far as Ian knew. Joey and Iggy were off somewhere, and Terry had gotten arrested the other day for smashing in some guys face at the Alibi because he’d accidentally knocked his drink over.

                Once the water had been running for a few minutes, Ian quickly darted over to a little shelf in the corner of Mickey’s room that he saw some old beat up CDs sticking out of. He’d gotten a general idea of the older boy’s taste in music the night the idea had come to him, but nothing had particularly stood out to him. Curling his fingers around the stacks, he brought them to his lap to shuffle through them. He wasn’t surprised, for the most part. Metallica, some old classic rock like Led Zeppelin (“ _Who in their right fuckin’minds doesn’t like Zeppelin_?”) and Pink Floyd, with some more industrial stuff like Nine Inch Nails, Static-X and Deftones and other stuff along those lines as well as some old school and current punk music, like Sex Pistols, The Misfits, No Ca$h and Leftover Crack. No pussy music here, as Mickey would say.

                And then, he saw it and his plan clicked into place. He’d heard something about this band just recently getting back together, one of their bassists had died not too long ago and a few of them had other projects to pursue that took up their and the worlds attention. And Mickey had every single one of their CDs; Ian knew so because he himself liked the band well enough. He only had one or two of any of the other bands. He noticed with a smirk, that even though all of the CDs were there, when he opened the last CD they’d put out, there was a burned copy of the disc with about three or four song titles on it and big, scrawling words written across it on the top. “ ** _THE ONLY SONGS ON THIS CD THAT DON’T SUCK BALLS_**.”

                Before he could plot any more, Ian heard the water to the shower shut off and he moved hastily to put everything back where it had come from. A pleased smile on his lips, that he fought to hide when Mickey came out of the bathroom, a towel hanging low on his delicious hipbones, hair sticking up at all angles and water droplets sliding slowly down the planes of his chest.

                Ian’s mouth watered, and he pounced.

                He’d plot later.

* * *

 

                His plan couldn’t be any more perfect if he tried.

                It just so happened that the band he’d had in mind for Mickey’s birthday present was touring currently, and had a show very close to them on October 30th.

                It was like it was meant to be. The tickets weren’t too bad, it was only going to be a bit over a hundred for two of them (he paid an extra $20 to get a tour shirt in advance as part of the gift) and they’d just take a train close to the venue and walk. He’d have to pick up an extra shift or two over the next few weeks to make up for his not putting as much as he should in the squirrel fund, but he didn’t mind.

                Now the only problem was getting Mickey to accept the gift, and figuring out exactly how to do that.

                It just kind of happened one day, they were sitting at work, Ian behind the counter glossing over a textbook and Mickey flicking a switchblade back and forth out of boredom when the little bells chimed over the door. There’d barely been any customers all day, and they’d already fucked twice in the freezer so they were kind of out of other shit to do at the moment.

                A guy in a uniform went to the counter, looking at Ian expectantly. “Package for Ian Gallagher?”

                Green eyes rose to assess the person speaking to him, and a grin spread wide across his cheeks. “That’s me,” Ian confirmed, reaching forward to sign and receive the package. The delivery guy left without a word, which Ian found kind of rude but brushed it off.

                “What’s that?” Mickey questioned, pushing off from his lazy perch to the right of the counter where the redhead sat.

                “Nothing,” Ian mumbled quickly, trying to shove the package in his backpack and out of sight before Mickey could push too much. Mickey’s birthday was a week and a half away and Ian didn’t want him to find out this soon. He figured the less Mickey knew the better. Lower chance of resistance.

                “Why didn’t you just have it delivered to your house? The fuck are you hiding?” The dark hair boy pushed, stepping as close to Ian as he could with the counter between them. The look on his face seemed annoyed. He didn’t like the fact that Ian was hiding shit, gave him a bad feeling.

                “It’s nothing, Mick. Just let it go.”

                But of course, he didn’t. They proceeded to bicker back and forth about it for a good five minutes, voices escalating even though it was really a stupid thing to fight over. Mickey reached across the counter to snatch it out of Ian’s backpack, a look of triumph coming over his pale features when Ian made a sound of frustration and just tossed it angrily at him.

                “Here, ya god damn prick! Have to ruin fucking everything.” Huffing, Ian stood up and stalked off to the counter. He was beyond irritated at Mickey’s behavior, not that it was anything out of the ordinary. He began shoving bottles into the shelves a little harsher than necessary, fuming. All he wanted was to do something nice for him, and he had to go and be a dickhead and ruin his plans before they were even in action. In theory, it might be better this way because like hell would Mickey even look twice at something that he’d actually _wrapped_ or something.

                Ian’s ornery mood only increased when the door to the freezer was pulled open, and something was thrown at his chest.

                “What the fuck is this?” Mickey snarled, stepping in and crossing his arms across his chest.

                With a sigh Ian grabbed the tickets and shirt before they fluttered to the ground and threw them back at his lover, who just let them fall to the floor anyways. “It was supposed to be a surprise. For your birthday.”

                “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

                Laughing bitterly, Ian shook his head. “Nope. Happy fucking birthday.”

                “What, you gonna take me on a fuckin’ date night or some shit? Is that what this is supposed to be? Cause I thought I made it pretty clear that we don’t do that shit, and _I_ definitely do not do that shit.” The malice in his voice was completely unnecessary and he knew it but it couldn’t be helped. The Milkovich boy was freaked out. No one had ever done anything like this, let alone bought him anything for his birthday and he liked it that way. He didn’t like the idea of owing anyone anything. Leave it to Gallagher to throw it all out the window. The previous year had been acceptable, nothing out of the usual about drinking and getting high.

                This was a different matter entirely, a matter that made Mickey’s skin itch. Not because he _felt_ anything about it, of course not. His insides hadn’t twisted when he’d opened the package to see the contents. His heart hadn’t picked up speed, and a smile hadn’t twitched on his lips at the redhead’s thoughtful gesture. No fucking way.

                Instead of lashing out like he’d expected – hell, _wanted-_ Ian to, the boy just looked sad. Like a kicked puppy.

                And that didn’t pull on his non-existent heart strings. Not one bit.

                “You don’t have to be such a prick about it. I’ll fucking return them, okay?” Defeated and way past arguing the matter anymore, Ian pushed past Mickey without a glance and made his way to the shipment area. He lifted the door partially like he usually did, lighting a much needed cigarette and inhaling deeply.

                Ian scoffed, and silently berated himself. He should have known, could kick himself for thinking that Mickey would honestly take this anything remotely close to well. Whatever, it wasn’t like it’d be hard to sell the tickets.

                The cigarette between his slender fingers was half gone when the freezer door opened. He kept his eyes trained on the floor at his feet, sucking desperately on his smoke again to keep his nerves together and refusing to meet the stormy blue of his infuriating… whatever the fuck he wanted to call himself. God, the guy was effing confusing. Getting jealous and beating up not one, but two guys because Ian had been screwing them. Rising up to meet his not so subtle dare, only to refuse to kiss him again after that. Well, not really _refuse_ , but he hadn’t made any effort for a repeat performance.

                And that kind of stung, because it basically meant that it was equivalent to Mickey pissing on his territory rather than acting on instinct.

                Fuck, how had he gotten here?

                An impatient clearing of the throat drew him out of his own little world, but he still refused to meet the older boys eyes. Didn’t need him going off about the ‘faggy emotions’ he was absolutely sure were raging in them. “What?”

                “How did you know?” Came the slow, almost demure reply.

                At his tone, Ian’s eyes rose to meet his in almost shock. Mickey was _never_ demure. His shock increased tenfold when he noticed the shirt and tickets curled into Mickey’s tattooed knuckles resting limply by his side. “Know what?” Even to his own ears, he sounded tired and worn with maybe a slight twinge of hurt.

                “That they’re my favorite.” Mickey responded simply, face and tone giving away nothing he was thinking. It was almost eerie, how void he was.

                Ian shrugged dismissively, giving in. “Went through your CDs the other day while you were in the shower. You said you’d never been to a show before, so I wanted to…I don’t fucking know, just forget it.”

                Instead of responding the blue eyed boy stepped forward after a moment to drop his free hand onto Ian’s shoulder, fingers digging in. Normally, he’d bristle at the idea of anyone going through any of his things without his permission to do so. He chalked it up to extenuating circumstances. His hand slowly slid down Ian’s shoulder as he spoke. “I don’t want to forget it, fuckhead. Stop being a baby.” And that was as close to an apology as he was going to fucking get, as far as Mickey was concerned. Maybe he’d overreacted; maybe the idea of going to a Slipknot concert with Ian wasn’t so bad. And okay, maybe he felt a little guilty about the wrecked look he’d put on Ian’s face when the kid was only trying to do something nice for him.

                But only a little.

                 Reaching Ian’s wrist, his fingers slid over the smooth skin and tugged his hand in between his legs so the redhead could feel the appreciation he was incapable of vocalizing. This was a language they both spoke well.  “ _I_ have a package for Ian Gallagher.”

                Ian’s eyes blew so wide it was almost comical, and Mickey couldn’t hold back a chuckle as he started to back up towards the freezer again. “Better go lock the door, flip that sign and open your damn package, Firecrotch. It ain’t gonna wait all day.”

                After considering him for a moment, sizing him up like he wasn’t sure exactly how to take his sudden calm- poor boy probably was waiting for him to lash out again, not that he could blame him- a shit eating grin split his lips as the redhead scrambled to the door to do as he was told.

                Initial reaction be damned, Ian had gotten what he wanted from the hoodlum. He’d accepted the gift. Though he wasn’t stupid enough to think there wouldn’t be more shit given about it, for now he’d take this. Because the Mickey giving him a hard time about it was the only way he’d allow himself to accept said gift, and Ian knew that. He had to use harsh words and defensive stances, because this was all new to him.

                Feet quickly scaling the twenty or so feet keeping him from the object of his desire, he found Mickey leaning back against the cart expectantly. “You gonna buy me some fuckin’ flowers too?” He couldn’t help but tease the younger boy a little. He’d reacted so powerfully to Mickey’s usual irritable demeanor, and even though he knew he’d hurt the boy he was making up for it. Some light taunts wouldn’t hurt too much.

                Ian smirked, stepping forward and roughly grabbing Mickey’s shoulder and shoving him to face the cart. “Shut the fuck up for once, and drop em’.”

                Well shit, who could argue with that?                                                       


	2. Surfacing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positive response everyone! If ya wanna listen to some Slipknot a bit later on to get in the mind frame, it’s highly encouraged =] Also I don’t own any songs or anything mentioned! Sorry it took so long to finish this, I’ve never written boy on boy smut before so I was really nervous. Let me know how I did! =] This is all really just a result of my own head canon for Mickey's taste in music and wanting them to have some happiness before the soul crushing events of 3x666. Hope you enjoy!

 

_Running out of ways to run,_   
_I can’t see, I can’t be_   
_Over and over and under my skin_   
_All this attention is doing me in_   
_Fuck it all,_   
_Fuck this world_   
_Fuck everything that you stand for_   
_Don’t belong, don’t exist_   
_Don’t give a shit_   
_Don’t ever judge me_

 

* * *

 

                “If one more person bumps into me, I’m gonna be cracking some fucking skulls.”

                Ian sighed, rolling his eyes a bit over dramatically and heaving his shoulders. His patience was wearing a bit thin. Naturally one would expect the concert environment to grate on Mickey’s nerves and test his ability to control himself since people kind of can’t help but bump into you. The redhead had been trying to keep Mickey’s fuse from lighting, at least when no one was on stage. The opening acts had already gone on and finished, and now everyone was anxiously awaiting the headliner. Ian pretended not to notice how Mickey was fidgeting a bit more than normal out of contained excitement, although it was extremely hard not to comment on because it was so damn _adorable_ and rare.

                Mickey had been wound up all day, in fact. No one that didn’t know him as thoroughly as Ian would have noticed though. It was in his movements, his voice, and his mannerisms.

                “Just hold it in until Slipknot comes on, okay? Unless you want to get kicked out before the good part even begins,” he added, figuring if nothing else that would force Mickey to slightly behave.

                The scoff and eye roll he received as an answer told him he was correct.

                Rather than verbally responding Ian reached into his jacket pocket to withdraw his pack of cigarettes to take out the joint he’d stashed in there before they’d gotten on the El to go to the outside venue the concert was being held at. Popping it into his mouth, he quickly lit up and took two deep hits before passing it to Mickey in their usual routine.

                The way they shared cigarettes, and joints and really anything smoke able or drinkable, was something Ian loved with such an intensity it scared him. He would never, ever say anything about it aloud for fear of it discontinuing. It was second nature to them, but it wasn’t like Mickey in particular just shared his smokes and shit with anyone. It was like a marker of the bond that was between them, and Ian would never draw attention to it because it would freak Mickey the fuck out.

                They shared the joint until it was only paper, it getting tossed to the ground with hundreds of cigarette butts and forgotten about. Ian was deep in thought, feeling uplifted and content, when suddenly the lights all dimmed around them and people started shouting with anticipation.

                The grin that split across Mickey’s face as he all but bounced on the balls of his feet made everything it took for Ian to make this night happen worth it a million times over.

                Music started pounding around them, so blaringly loud that the ground pulsed. Bodies twisted, jumping up and down and into each other. ‘Sic’ blasted, the music serving as the perfect lead up to the adrenaline that rushed through the crowd. Corey Taylor’s voice growled through the speakers as the nine men in their masks and bright jumpsuits appeared and everyone just went insane for a few minutes.

                And if Ian was watching Mickey as he quite literally lost it, well who could blame him? It was a striking vision. The boy was usually so controlled and calculated, but the music seemed to free him of his usual boundaries and carefully constructed walls. He jumped, and thrashed and shouted and it was just fucking _beautiful_.

                The drummer’s podium raised into the air, the metal circles surrounding it starting to swing in wide arcs around him. Ian’s eyes widened in surprise as a quiet gasp of appreciation because that was fucking impressive. Mickey just laughed, seeming unsurprised.

                After a song or two, a circle pit started about ten feet ahead of them. Blue orbs locked on green, and Ian’s heart clenched at the look in his lovers eyes. He looked truly alive as he motioned quickly to the pit, and Ian just grinned in response. Mickey’s lip twitched in a smirk as his fingers coiled around Ian’s wrist for a short moment, squeezing before he was off.

                And if Ian had thought he’d seen him let go before, boy was he wrong. The redhead watched, flicking his eyes away to the stage every now and then as well as jumping in time with the music, as the dark haired boy flew around the pit, knocking into as many people as possible and not hesitating for a second to punch anyone in the face who fell into or came at him. Maniacal laughter seemed to be bursting out of him, as he ducked and slammed his fist into the ribs of a huge guy that had fallen towards him and knocked him to the floor. Another guy, twice Mickey’s size, went to try to knock him to the ground with a shoulder, but Mickey simply head-butted him and the guy went down.

                The songs went straight on for about ten minutes before Mickey, satisfied, made his way back to Ian, shoulders heaving with adrenaline and knuckles bleeding.

                “Enjoying yourself?” Ian couldn’t help but tease a bit.

                “Fuck you, this is awesome,” Mickey responded, spitting a bit of blood onto the floor as everyone’s attention was suddenly extremely focused on the stage as Corey spoke.

                “You better fucking get ready? Cause it’s time to…Spit! It! Out!”

                The beat to ‘Spit It Out’ pounded around them and he couldn’t have commented more if he wanted to because Mickey was wrapped into the music again. A minute or two in, the music coasted on but seemed slightly subdued, and Corey jumped up onto an amp in the front of the stage yelling into the microphone.

                “Chicago! Let me ask you something. How many of you have seen us before?”

                A loud roar was heard.

                “How many of you are with us for the very first time tonight?”

                Ian whooped, clapping his hands above his head as Mickey just stared, this frenzied glint to his eyes like he knew exactly where this was going and he was psyched as all hell about it.

                “Whether you’ve seen us before or not, you’ve heard the myths. You know the legends! You know what the fuck I want from you tonight!”

                The crowd went absolutely berserk. When Mickey’s entire face lit up like a fucking Christmas tree, Ian opened his mouth to ask what the hell the guy was talking about when his questioned was answered.

                “Now let me see you get down on the fucking ground. Right now.”

                Confused, Ian turned to Mickey but paused when the boy tilted his head back, and laughter boomed out.

                He was pretty sure he’d seen Mickey laugh and grin more tonight than he had in the entire time he’d known him. It was actually starting to bug him out a bit. Especially when Mickey just instantly dropped in response, as well as the majority of the crowd. Staring in shock he started to say, “What the fu-“but Mickey gripped his wrist and insistently tugged him down.

                “I suggest you get the fuck down unless you wanna get hit,” Mickey hissed, that crazy look still in his eyes.

                For a second, Ian thought he meant that he was going to punch him, but then one of the band members, the one with the really long nose on his mask, jumped into the crowd and punched a guy straight in the nose for not getting on the ground. Shrugging, Ian fell to his knees.

                “Now, when I say jump the fuck up, you better jump the fuck up!” His deep, almost sick sounding chuckle rattled the stadium and Ian could feel his heart thumping wildly in his chest as the lyrics started again. The beat built up as he finished the verse, before suddenly telling everyone to jump the fuck up.

                And they did.

                The energy was unexplainable, the most tangible and powerful rush of _something_ that seemed to connect everyone into one huge writing mass as everyone suddenly jumped to their feet and it was utterly amazing. Neither boy had ever felt anything like it in their whole life.

                The rest of the concert was spectacular, and Ian didn’t even tease Mickey when he stood stock still with his arms crossed for one of the songs, the closest thing to a pout he’d ever seen on his face. He chalked it up to being one of the songs that “sucked balls”, as Mickey had so eloquently written on the CD he’d burned specifically to cut out said songs. The song they’d saved for the end seemed to get Mickey extra excited, the boy jumped and thrashed extra hard and lashed out at anyone who bumped into him. When some guy knocked Ian over, he grabbed Ian’s arm and steadied him with one hand and with the other punched the guy in the face and threw him back into the crowd before going right back to losing himself in the music. It was obvious this was his favorite, Ian didn’t know how he knew that but he did. And he could see why.

                When everyone was winding down after the band had said their goodbyes and exited, Mickey turned to face Ian with a serious look on his face. His cheeks were slightly flushed from his heavy breathing, his whole body heaving with it and his gaze still had that light to them that Ian had never seen before. Before his very eyes, that light turned into something wicked.

                “That was…Alley. Now.” Mickey demanded, and Ian gulped as his dick twitched at the gravely lust in the older boy’s voice and the steadily darkening stare he was receiving. They pushed through the crowd, Mickey telling people to fuck off rather loudly and impatiently when they voiced their complaints. Within minutes they’d made it outside of the gates, feet moving faster now that they were closer to their goal. Normally, they wouldn’t be so carefree with their location but _fuck_ if Ian was going to try to argue right now.

                People flooded around them, and they weaved through until they found a dark, empty alley behind an office building. Practically shoving him down it, Mickey grabbed and tugged insistently at the fabric of his sleeve until they were a safe distance in.

                “Hey Gallagher?”

                “Wha-“

                The breath whooshed out of him as his back hit the wall and his mouth snapped open to protest but suddenly there was hands pulling on his hair and lips crashing into his. He wasn’t stupid enough to question it. With a gruff moan the redhead reached out and held Mickey’s hips in a bruising grip, drawing him closer. The hot tongue that invaded his mouth sent shivers down his spine, and the fingers in his hair were making tingles wrack his body so powerfully he felt himself shuddering in pleasure.

                This was nothing like that first kiss. The first kiss was short, chaste and to the point, Mickey running out after and flipping him off for good measure. This, this was fucking passionate.

                Mickey’s whole body seemed to hum and pulse with energy, the adrenaline still pumping through him no doubt. Ian felt his own adrenaline kick into overdrive at the fact that Mickey was actually kissing him. His back scraped against the wall as Mickey pressed closer still, grinding into him and completely dominating his mouth.

                With a sharp inhale, the blue eyed boy pulled back and stared into his eyes for a brief moment before reaching down and undoing Ian’s belt with quick, nimble fingers. The redhead’s hands slid up Mickey’s lower back, slipping under his shirt – the one that Ian had gotten him- and digging into the dip right above that perfect ass.

                Once Ian’s pants were out of the way, Mickey wasted no time in shoving his hand down his boxers and gripping the almost painfully hard member. His fingers squeezed none too gently, eliciting a deep moan from Ian as his head fell back into the brick wall. Breaking the kiss with a heaving breath, Mickey dropped to his knees and swallowed Ian all the way down.

                A surprised gasp left Ian’s kiss swollen lips, fingers tangling in dark locks as he drank in the sight of Mickey sucking him off. He didn’t do it often, but when he did he gave it his all. The feel of Mickey’s tongue swirling around the length of him that was tightly encased in his throat made Ian’s eyes roll back into his head as he tugged on Mickey’s head and rubbed his scalp in encouragement. One of Mickey’s hands was digging into his hipbone, rubbing harsh circles into it while the other rose to gently cup and roll Ian’s balls just the way he knew the boy liked it.

                “Fuck, Mick…” Ian choked out, unable to stop his hips from jerking forward when Mickey gave a particularly hard suck. The older boy’s eyes lifted, locking on Ian’s and they were willed with filthy, unadultered joy as his cheeks hollowed. The eye contact make Ian’s dick get impossibly harder, and he began to squirm as he felt the tight coil of orgasm begin to rise in his stomach. Mickey just watched him, soaking up the look of abandon on the boy’s face and keeping their eyes locked as he bobbed his head back and forth a few times. He pulled back for a second, sliding his tongue in fast circled around just the tip before sucking him all the way down again. The hand fondling Ian’s balls shifted forward a bit, using one knuckle to massage the sensitive spot between his balls and his hole, stimulating his prostate from the outside and making Ian see stars

                The beautiful torture went on for another minute, before Ian tensed, so close to release. Mickey was having none of that, pulled away abruptly and rose to his feet. He grabbed Ian’s face, cupping his cheeks and crashing their lips together again. Why the fuck had he waited so long to do this? He couldn’t remember, not when Ian’s slick tongue was mapping out the inside of his mouth and sending shocks right to his dick. Mickey moaned into his mouth, unable to be patient anymore. He withdrew from the heated lip lock, giving Ian a dirty smirk and reaching down to palm himself through his pants.

                Lust rushed through him as Ian reversed their positions, slamming Mickey into the wall and quickly getting rid of the pants problem. Falling to his knees, he drew Mickey into his mouth to reciprocate the fucking amazing feeling he’d just given him and prepare the older boy. Mickey smiled, head tilting back and eyes closing in bliss as his hips arched into him, thrusting a bit. The taste of his precum made Ian groan as he reached up and shoved two fingers into Mickey’s mouth, his other hand scraping over Mickey’s hard stomach. He paid special attention to the dip in his hipbones he knew was sensitive, scraping his fingernails over it and smiling around Mickey’s cock when he hissed in pleasure. Mickey sucked his fingers like he had sucked his dick, tongue sliding all over and getting as much spit as he could on them.

                Ian wasted no time, shoving those slick digits right into Mickey’s entrance. The boy tensed for a second, before relaxing and shoving into those fingers, causing himself to slip from Ian’s mouth. Not even phased, Ian towered over Mickey and pressed their torsos together, trapping him against the wall as he finger fucked his entrance trying to loosen him up. Mickey was writhing, thrusting his member against Ian’s stomach and pushing onto his fingers in an alternating rhythm.

                “Get the fuck inside of me,” Mickey rumbled, and fuck if Ian didn’t get even harder at the sound. Mickey’s voice was sexy as hell normally, so when desire and _need_ roughened it Ian couldn’t contain himself. Smiling, the younger boy bent a bit to grip Mickey around the knees and pull, encouraging him to jump. Mickey obliged, grinning as he realized where this was going.

                He’d been expecting Gallagher to flip him around, but he wasn’t opposed to this. Gripping Ian’s shoulders for balance he jumped up, Ian catching him with firm hands under his ass as his legs locked around his hips. His dick was trapped between them, throbbing and weeping with how turned on he was and he just wanted Ian in his _right fucking now_ and opened his mouth to ask what the holdup was when Ian slicked himself up with his own spit and slammed home.

                Mickey made a sound that he wasn’t proud of, practically mewled at the glorious feeling of being filled and arched forwards so only his shoulders were against the wall. He thanked whothefuckever that Ian was so built and able to hold his weight, as the redhead proceeded to pound him into the wall. There was no hesitation or mercy in his powerful thrusts, hips slamming forward and then pulling back almost all the way only to push in again.

                Something was different. It was even more intense than their sex usually was and Ian felt an odd sort of ache in his chest, something that made him want to crawl inside of Mickey and never fucking leave. Even with the progress they’d made, they still didn’t fuck face to face often so when Mickey’s eyes opened and locked on his, Ian gasped at the fierce look in the blue orbs he so adored. Mickey’s head tilted back slightly, and he smiled a bit before rocking his hips forward to meet one of Ian’s particularly hard thrusts. Ian groaned, head falling forward to rest on Mickey’s collarbone. He bit and sucked the skin there, digging his teeth in until he tasted blood and Mickey shuddered in pleasure.

                The dark haired boy’s hands had been gripping Ian’s shoulders for balance, but he decided there were much better things he could be doing with them and tangled on in Ian’s short hair, jerking his head back to capture his lips in a violent kiss. He tasted his own blood, and it tasted wrong so he bit down harshly on Ian’s bottom lip until he tasted his blood instead. The mix of it was so good, and he knew that was probably disgusting but it was fucking hot and he liked it

                When Ian shifted his grip on Mickey’s ass, pushing him higher against the brick wall and the change of positions caused him to hit Mickey’s sweet spot the older boy bucked uncontrollably.

                “Fuck…” Mickey growled into his mouth, unable to stop the string of profanities falling from his lips. “Yeah, just like that…” And he swirled his tongue up, tracing the soft flesh in between Ian’s upper lip and his teeth and it shouldn’t have bit that felt _so fucking good_.

                Impossibly, Mickey’s voice and mouth turned him on even more, again, and Ian picked up the pace. Mickey had a death grip around his hips so he used his free hand to twist one of Mickey’s hands against the wall, pinning it there as the other fell down to leave finger shaped bruises in the other boys side for a few moments before it switched to jerk Mickey’s forgotten cock that was pinned in between their bodies, matching the pace of his hips.

                “Nigh…Gallagher, fucking….Shit…” Mickey hissed nonsense, eyes rolling back into their sockets and head slamming back into the wall. He was so fucking close, the pressure building up inside of him and in his dick becoming almost unbearable. He didn’t have to tell Ian to go harder, he was pretty sure that wasn’t possible since the redhead was fucking into him with all he had it seemed. The pain of the wall scraping his back was welcome, and only served to increase the fucking bliss that was basically suffocating him.

                “Mickey…” Ian whispered his name reverently, his movements becoming less controlled. Mickey’s eyes opened at the sound, and he drowned in the way Ian was looking at him.

                Like he was the only thing on this planet that was worth a god damn thing.

                And wasn’t that just fucking ridiculous? But he couldn’t think on it too much because Ian lurched forward, kissing him hard and sloppy and getting brave enough to twine their fingers together against the wall above Mickey’s head.

                Too lost to give a shit, Mickey gripped Ian’s hands tighter and shoved his tongue into his mouth, loving the slick feeling. His stomach coiled as Ian repeatedly slammed into him just right, and he pulled his mouth away so suck up a mark just below Ian’s ear. Ian’s head tilted back to allow him better access, fucking Mickey into the wall so hard now that the older boy’s body was bouncing up and down against the brick. They were both so close, all the nerves and energy from the concert racing through them it wasn’t going to last much longer.

                Keening as Ian hit his prostate over and over Mickey turned his head to lick the shell of Ian’s ear, nipping it as his whole body tensed and the coil in his gut burst, making spots cloud his vision as he came like a fucking supernova and he snarled out, “Fuck, Ian!”

                And Ian was already close, but the sound of his name, _his first name_ , bursting from Mickey’s lips and the feel of his hot, tight body clenching around him was enough to push him over the edge as well. His hips twitched a few times more as he pulsed inside of Mickey, both of them breathing heavily as they stilled to let their hearts calm down. Ian pressed his sweaty forward against Mickey’s, closing his eyes and enjoying the moment while he could, fully expecting Mickey to push him away. Especially once he realized that their hands were still intertwined.

                But, to Ian’s immense surprise, he didn’t. Mickey just rested there, staring at Gallagher’s flushed face and enjoying the peaceful post orgasm bliss. He felt Ian softening inside of him, cum spilling out but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to move, because as soon as he did he knew the spell would be broken. He’d have to pretend he wasn’t enjoying the fucking intimacy of this moment, of their hands locked and chests pressed together with Mickey’s cum all over both of them. Pretend he didn’t fucking die inside when Ian’s eyes opened and he smiled at Mickey, that megawatt sappy smile with that soft look in his eyes like Mickey was all he’d ever wanted in the world.

                To stop himself from melting completely, Mickey closed his eyes and pecked Ian on the lips once more before retracting his hand and pushing the redhead back. Ian slipped out of him, and he winced a little at the loss but hit the ground on steady on his feet.

                Both boys dressed in comfortable silence. Ian had a goofy grin plastered on his face, his green eyes shining with something unspoken and Mickey couldn’t help but grab the boy by his belt loop ad pull him in for another biting kiss.

                Ian laughed, pulling backwards. He was on top of the world right now. Mickey wasn’t being sappy or clingy or anything, but the little bits and pieces of affection Ian was eating up like a starving dog and he wasn’t even going to comment on or question that Mickey hadn’t punched him for basically holding his hand.

               “So, was that a thank you?” Ian asked, watching as Mickey lit up a cigarette and inhaled contentedly, his eyes hooded and content before breathing the smoke out of his nostrils and grinning at Ian.

                “The fuck you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come chat with me on tumblr! =] loveonawirex3; Thanks for reading! Feedback greatly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> :D


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